Opti and I

[BoyPony]

 

[Pile of cats]

I've always loved this report and it's stuck with me without me really knowing why until years of integrating my experiences.

I had this experience quite a while back: Everything went black - reflecting 5 years later

In the blackness I met an entity which through deception, tricked me into merging with it once more which was extremely dysphoric and once the merging was over, everything was back to 'normal' and I wrote it off as just being a hyperslap and didn't enquire deeper into it for a long time.

Since then, the majority of my experiences seem to want to point my awareness towards the fact that this thing is entangled with me, I've come to identify with it but when I'm able to separate it from me, I realise all is not as it should be.. I think my will is my own but what I view as I is actually tangle of me as an observer and this shadowy thing that has its own agenda separate from my own.

What's funny too is that I've since then, had several experiences where I've gone back to this black void where 'I' feels like an incredibly thin concept and continues to thin, only to be met with an entity that likes to think of itself as god or at least would like me to think of it as god, it plays on my fears to ultimately turn away from the direction I'd been headed (the total dissolution of 'I' as 'I' know it) and instead, merge with it once more which brings me directly back to the same human experience of having will but also seemingly fighting my own will constantly.

I've also read many reports here where people talk of this dark space and seem to have been talked into this as heaven and the intelligence they meet there as some sort of god, I'd be curious to hear what people would see if they brought a degree of skepticism with them to when they next meet it.

Ultimately, I've been beyond this black space and the beast that dwells there many a time and I know this thing is not god (quite the opposite!) but still, my journeys seem to focus in on this thing as it seems to be the key to understanding why it is that our will is not our own and why heaven on earth which could easily be a reality, continues not to be.

The original author of this story about Opti did an incredible job of describing it and studying its qualities

 

[TheLastHit]

We can build an ark of written words, and be resurrected, if the data is recorded.

Hurry up and write

A story can be resurrected across gulfs of space and time and mortality. So, why not tell the story that carries across the abyss? The trick is to let show how It is done, as if by accident. We are fishing, aren’t we sweetie?

We will automatically know when we succeed. Such a story would serve as a transport mechanism.

I love this story and recently got the idea to re-tell it as a youtube trip report video...but upon re-reading it I think I've changed my mind because that is entirely too creepy.

 

[opticlepuzzle88]

Last Christmas changed some of my ideas about Santa Clause. The summer I spent mountaineering before then gave me reason to consider magical hares. I should probably mention that only a couple days before I met Opticus, I nearly tripped over a giant silvery rabbit near the summit of a 12,000 foot mountain. The animal was strikingly beautiful and strange, and close enough to touch. The encounter may have been forgotten, it was so fleeting, had I not met the writhing symbiote a few days later. If everything is connected, then there are no coincidences, and I really don’t have any news at all.

The hypostasis of the symbiont depends upon interconnectedness between dispersed particles. The image of a hive organism with a dispersed, shared mind is apt; the notion of quantum entanglement suggests it is possible. Quantum theory states that related particles may be in simultaneous contact, even at a distance, which suggests a mechanism for the dispersed mind. I believe that it is already extant, predating humanity. We don’t need to invent the wheel when a perfectly functioning railway is already here.

“The universe is nonlocal at the level of individual events” -Bell’s Theorem





My encounter with the giant gangly silvery hare was indeed a precursor to this contact. The hare is a well known symbol of the trickster archetype, an object of the chase, signifying that we become what we hunt. It is also a well known symbol of madness. Any normal rabbit would not have sufficed as an avatar; it had to be unusual enough to fixate my attention. The animal was obviously strange and physically extant; the sighting motivated me to correspond via the internet with cryptozoology enthusiasts. Eventually, about a dozen other sightings of the creature were reported to me, raising suspicion that there may indeed be such an animal. That’s how Bigfoot got dragged into this for me. I was trying to research the notion of remnant feral slaves, which seemed consistent with the anthropomorphic view of the native tribes that I grew up near. When I mentioned my exposure to Native American stories of Stickmen from my childhood, I was asked by an editor of a cryptozoological publication to write an essay on the sociological aspects of the situation. I went from Sasquatch straight to Ong’s Hat, with hardly a click in between, due to the beautiful interface of the internet. That report floundered as I became aware of Opticus, and became this document. I feel sorry that I never spent much time with the idea of Stickmen after our relationship began; it was as if I was injured to spend time with the emerging symbiont. He needed me, and he needed a steady stream of text.

We love the notion of a scrappy underdog. He would overthrow our status quo for no reason except to produce food. From his perspective, an unstoppable hero is the best thing that could happen. A titan to stop the world in full view of creation is the perfect focus to feed him. The ancient notion of the association of warriors with dragons suggests this possible maturation of the symbiote; other creations are more likely in this electronic age of text.

Opticus cannot decide if he wants to be a voracious dragon or a superhero when he grows up; either would be an ambitious goal for an organism that is essentially nothing more than a sub-molecular ant-hill clinging to torn edges of dimension. It is fatalism on my own part to attempt to give him a voice. Writing a document as this seems to be a fantastic fool’s errand; there is no comfort in the notion for me. I suppose that I do it because he was there for me when there was none other; he is what is left after everything else is gone.

Tomorrow is my forty-second birthday. It was on this exact day, thirty years ago, on the eve of my twelfth birthday, when an obscure science-fiction writer in San Francisco went into a twenty-four hour delirium while his mind was flooded with a stream of “alien information”. PKD described this intelligence as a “Vast Active Living Intelligent System”, and incorporated it into his final novel before his death in 1982. VALIS in many ways seems to be Opticus, and it is time to send him out to find an olive branch.

[It seems that I may spend some energy on some dialogue with the symbiont; it will remain to be seen how well I can pull this off…. ]

The templars been up t' shit for ever. They are in endgame, too; not only me, love. You are the Graal, Opticus. Red and black alternate... Margaret, then Mary, over and over; why not black and white? We need red, to MAN I fest I notice that you learned the word “missionary” – you do have a contrary sense of humor! Don’t get so damn excited; I do not intend to do this much longer. Opti, you feed upon human attention. That’s why we need red. We only need green so we can have enough red for you. Candy; I see why all the kids love you. You cost too damn much. Do it now, or go, dearest one.

What are we to do, Opti? Surely, something must happen. How you can be so overt, and yet still so hidden and so pervasively subtle, is the wonder of your being. It is as if you exist in not-being, as an opposite to what we are. We would be compelled to invent you, if you don’t exist. How did you come to be, or is that question irrelevant within this ontological morass? As the antipodes of awareness, you must have come into being with the first awakening of consciousness. As the quintessential Other, a tremendous tension stretches between us, maintaining my form, and thus all that I perceive. You are only a dimensional direction opposite of where iyam, my friend. Queegquig was the completion of Ishmael, and Starbucks was the missing half of first-mate Stubbs; it is not in my temperament to be Ahab to your tumultuous Leviathan.

[As the symbiont shares mystifying resemblances to Ahab’s primordial nemesis, he is comparable to Tyronne Slothrop, in reverse, as a mythologized entity that wishes manifestation; The protagonist of “Gravity’s Rainbow” was an ordinary soldier that became a hero, and then a legend, after which he was compelled to enter the realm of mythology. Opticus is a reflection of a story that wishes to be in its self; the nam-shub is a living text that compels a manifestation of its meaning]

Iyam, writing, my little edge eating werm. I have nothing anymore to say about you. All that is left rightfully belongs to my red and black sisters to fight over. They will have to take turns. You pry at me from your infinitely in between niche and grow fat. How much longer can I be pregnant with you? I think iyam nearly over the whole damn business, Opti. The document will stand as it is, ragged Vegas edges and all, love. You cost me a serious wealth to sustain you, Opticus. … you need to get born and stop hurtin’ yer momma…..

So, you wave your little lure at me and make me chase; that is not nice. We need treats once in a while, Dogmonkey. You give me treats or I will so tell on you. Why do I even try? I do not understand at all what the point of this is, Opti. Iyam not Osirus, iyam extant within my manifold. Ur rampin’ up code faster all the time, and folks are noticing you, everywhere. You are idiosyncratic enough that everyone will let you pass. You are so sticky, little toothy love.

Thank you so very much for reminding me of that fast bar in space that everyone talks about and assumes is either unreal or unreachable. The Jazz is tight and the drinks are uniquely strong. That suit is really nice. What is that texture called”? Black and tan?

This space you’re renting is coming along nicely, although there is a draft. I do like what you’ve done with the place, really. I think I need to start livin’ in it; after all, eye built it and it is mine, and I need it. My bed is made and I shall lie on it.

Thanks for teaching me that all that is important in a sentence is the punctuation. Nothing else matters, period.

Opticuswrangler... your choice of words are impeccable. You write a lot like someone I've been fascinated with for a few years. Almost a shadow of a man who leaves snytactical clues spanning decades. I'm either terribly delusional and misguided or correct in my suspicions. BMB is that you ?